


The Only Day That Matters

by IndigoButterfly



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Don't hate me McPriceleys, Family Feels, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Give Neeley a chance, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoButterfly/pseuds/IndigoButterfly
Summary: ''I once told a lie when I was 12, and I had a dream that I went to Hell.''Elder Neeley adjusts to his new life in Uganda, without the confines of the Mormon church. He finds turning it off to be a harder habit to break than he'd hoped, but as he really gets to know his fellow missionaries, he finds a family, along with something he never expected.In which: Church needs a hug, Zelder chills out, Poptarts is hungry, Cunningham mans up, Schrader is a bro, Price is Price, McKinley turns it on, Neeley stops living his lie, and it all works out in the end.Based on the original West End cast and inspired by Ashley Day's totally endearing Elder Neeley.
Relationships: Elder Neeley/Elder ''Connor'' McKinley
Kudos: 10





	1. Neeley

Porter Neeley had never been one for causing a stir. He'd grown up in a Salt Lake City suburb, in a traditional home with a big yard and a white picket fence. The third of five children, Neeley was used to blending in. He wasn't the oldest, the youngest, the smartest, or the most outgoing. He just _was_.

Young Porter worked hard at school, diligently attended church, and did his chores with gusto. He was handsome, but unremarkable. He was good with numbers and liked to draw, but had never truly found his passion. He had hoped that getting out of Salt Lake and into the world would set him on his path, that he could distinguish himself from the pack and accomplish something that would get him noticed, while doing some good. But once in Uganda, he had found himself falling into the same habits. He was a face in the crowd, a cookie cutter image of a good Mormon boy, one who'd perfected the art of turning it off it in ways he didn't dare contemplate.

The whole upheaval had been a lot for Neeley to handle. He had dedicated his life to the church, and when the Mission President had said they were all as far from Latter Day Saints as it gets, it had stung. Elder Price's shunning of their faith had shocked him. He'd considered Price a sort of upgraded version of himself - Neeley 2.0: more driven, more confident, and more charismatic. People noticed Kevin Price. They respected him, they expected big things from him. And it had all come crashing down in a spectacular fashion. Neeley was taken aback, to be sure. But in the next moment, he had felt the restraints of an ordinary life bound by the church melting away. He felt free.

When the commotion had died down, the boys of the former District 9 had set about creating a new normal. They lost the ties, name tags and 'Elder' as a form of address outside of their church duties. They studied the Book of Arnold, with Cunningham delightedly taking up the role of teacher alongside that of Prophet. They worked to build ties with their community: McKinley started a choir, Schrader organized a soccer team, and plans were in the works to build a small church where the villagers could worship sheltered from the burning sun.

Kitguli continued to be a challenging place to live and serve, but with dedicated new members coming to the church and pressure to be perfect Mormons off, the stress had faded away and the missionaries finally felt they were making a difference. Of course, explaining the situation to their parents hadn't been easy. Most, including Neeley's, had chosen to ignore the fact that their sons were no longer on an official mission and instead go on as they otherwise would. If people at their churches had heard what had really happened, well - they were too polite to say. Not all of the boys serving District 9 would stay to preach the gospel of Arnold Cunningham, however.

Dallin Michaels had been the first to go. When his influential parents got word of what their son was up to in Uganda, they bought him a flight ticket and ordered him home. Either he got on the plane, or he was out of the family. Michaels went home, and his father procured him an internship at a law office to bolster his college application. They didn't hear from him much after that.

Next was Clark Davis. As much as he'd wanted to stay, Africa didn't agree with him. After recurring bouts with fever, heatstroke and dehydration, he'd become weak and listless; his parents became concerned and flew him home too. Davis was still in touch with his fellow elders, though; he'd already sent a package full of supplies and a card with an update. He'd recovered well and had applied to the local community college, where he was hoping to study social work. Neeley was glad Davis was doing well, but the departure of his good friend was tough.

So, now they were eight.

Letting go of the church had been, in many ways, easier than Neeley had expected, but letting go of the 'turn it off' mentality was proving to be much more difficult. It wasn't just at home, school and church that he'd bottled it all up and plastered a smile on his face, but within himself. _Heavenly Father knows what's best_ , he'd told himself. And so it had gone, for the first 19 years of his life. But now...

''Neeley! The salt please?''

Neeley looked up and around the breakfast table to see all the remaining faces of District 9 looking at him expectantly.

''Oh. Sorry.''

He handed the salt shaker across to Church, who sprinkled it a little too liberally onto his eggs.

''What's going on in there?'' asked Thomas, ruffling Neeley's dark hair, ''He asked you three times.''

''Just...thinking I guess, about...everything.''

The others all nodded enthusiastically; they'd all been doing the same over the past few weeks.

''There's certainly been a lot to think about,'' said McKinley pleasantly, ''If you ever want to talk about anything, you know where I am.''

''Thanks,'' smiled Neeley – a genuine smile. It felt good.

And with that, the conversation around the table resumed, and Neeley was left alone with his thoughts once again.


	2. Church

Neeley wasn't the only missionary struggling with the Church of Arnold's philosophy of expressing yourself and living your truth. He saw it in the others, too: Thomas still wrestled with guilt over the death of his sister, McKinley struggled to fully embrace his flamboyant tendencies, and Church – well, Church had a lot of anger lurking beneath his easygoing persona.

Construction of the village church had begun, though funds were so short they weren't actually sure they'd actually be able to finish it. The missionaries and the villagers were working long and hard to build a suitable place for the followers of the Book of Arnold to celebrate their new-found faith. The work was rewarding, but physically grueling, thanks to the dry heat and unrelenting sun. It was no less hot today, but they carried on. Church was trying – for the fourth time – to hammer a stake into the ground. He swung the mallet with all his might, only for it to bounce off the edge of the stake, which went flying.

'' _Son of a b_ \- ''

The others gasped. They may have been more free to use colourful language now, but they still weren't used to it, and certainly not from the normally sunny Church. He rolled his eyes dramatically and flung the mallet to ground, storming away. Zelder, Church's new companion, was nowhere to be seen. The other elders looked to each other, silently asking the question.

''I'll go,'' volunteered Neeley. He dropped his saw and headed after Church, finding him sitting on a fallen log beneath the sprawling branches of a towering tree, looking utterly miserable.

''Want do you want, Neeley?'' he muttered.

''Just checking on you is all, you're obviously upset and I don't think it's just about hammering.''

''How perceptive of you,'' Church said bitterly.

''Come on, I'm just trying to help.''

''It's easy for you!'' Church spat, ''You had everything handed to you on a silver platter! You -''

''You're right.'' replied Neeley calmly.

Church froze, as the anger drained from his face.

''No,'' he said taking a calming breath, ''No, that wasn't fair. Everyone has their own problems. It's just, turning it all back on, it's – not easy. And with Davis leaving...I mean Zelder's been a great companion too, but it's just....hard.'' Church motioned for Neeley to join him, and he took a seat next to his friend.

''I wasn't born into the faith,'' Church told him, ''The faith found me. My life was a mess – my dad was out of control and my mom took the worst of it. I did what I could, but I was just a kid, you know?''

Neeley nodded. Even now, Church was several inches shorter than him and slightly built. He couldn't imagine him trying to stand up for himself and his mother against an angry drunk at such a young age. Neeley suddenly found himself keenly aware of the fact that he'd been internally bemoaning his own comparably wholesome upbringing for weeks.

''My mom always said, 'Jimmy, don't let him take your shine away. You're destined for great things and you'll find your way in life.''' Church paused and took a deep breath.

''She died,'' he blurted out. Neeley's eyes widened; Church had never mentioned losing his mother. ''When I was 17.''

''Did he...''

Church shook his head.

''No. One morning she just didn't wake up. Some kind of heart condition, they said. Then it was just me and Dad, and he turned all his anger towards me.

One day, the doorbell rang. It was two elders from the church. They were kind and smiling, and the stories they told held so much hope. There was all this warmth in the community, and this idea that you could block out all the bad things in your life – it seemed like the answer. But I joined for the wrong reasons; I threw myself into the church and pushed down all the pain. I guess you can only do that for so long. I'm glad we followed Arnold on another path, but some days it's hard to face it all, you know?''

''I do,'' Neeley said quietly. Church followed his gaze to where it had landed on McKinley and Price in friendly conversation. ''It'll be okay,'' Neeley assured Church, turning back to face him, ''We're your family now.''

Church looked genuinely touched and it seemed as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He nodded contentedly and his usual bright smile returned.

''Right! And we can be ourselves. Thanks, Neels.'' He clapped Neeley on the shoulder and headed back to the group where he patiently took up the task that had frustrated him so much just a few minutes before.

As Neeley watched him go, pleased to have helped his friend, he realized Church had done most of the talking. He supposed, though, that what Church had really needed was someone to listen, and that was enough. If he'd taken another glance towards McKinley, Neeley would have seen him watching the interaction with a gentle smile. Instead, Neeley picked up his saw and headed as far from McKinley as he could get.


	3. Zelder

Neeley found Zelder taking a break in a clearing behind the framework of the church-in-progress. He looked nothing like his former self: chestnut curls, no longer tamed by hair gel, grew wildly in every direction, and cheap neon sunglasses bought at the local market were perched on his face. In one hand he held a glass bottle of Coca-Cola, and in the other he bounced his paddle ball. Aaron Zelder had always been a quiet one, and Neeley realized he really knew nothing about him. In truth, he'd never really made an effort to talk to Zelder. Neeley decided it was time for that to change.

''Hey Elder Zelder,'' he said with a smile, old habits dying hard.

''Oh Lord,'' Zelder replied, and Neeley could see his eyes roll even with the sunglasses. ''You know how ridiculous it is to go through life known as 'Elder Zelder'?''

Neeley snorted, startling himself.

''Go ahead and laugh,'' chuckled Zelder wryly, ''I'm used to it. Even when people were polite about it, I knew they were laughing on the inside.''

''Sorry, pal,'' replied Neeley, stifling his grin, ''But you know, there's nothing stopping you now – you can be known as whatever you want.''

''True, true. I've been thinking about that too'' said Zelder, ''No, Elder Zelder is a relic of the past. I think I'll go with – Zee.''

''Zee?''

''Just Zee. What do you think?'' Zelder was beaming now, and Neeley couldn't help but smile too.

''I like it!'' he said truthfully.

Zelder nodded thoughtfully. ''I like it too. You know what else I like? THIS. He took a long swig of the soda in his hand. We've really been missing out, huh?''

''I think so.''

Zelder's whole demeanor had changed over the past few weeks: he was relaxed and comfortable, not to mention that Neeley had never heard him say so much at once before. Zelder stretched out and took another sip of his soda, then smacked his lips and nodded with approval at the bottle in his hand.

''What about you, Neeley? Any big discoveries?''

''I'm working on it.''

''Good,'' nodded Zelder sagely, ''That's good.''

''Well, I think I'll get back. Nice talking to you, Zee'' said Neeley.

''Any time!'' Zelder called jovially after him, turning back to his paddle ball.


	4. Poptarts

Neeley couldn't sleep. His mind raced with thoughts of home, his parents, the church, and his companions. He glanced over to where Schrader slept like a rock, his snores reverberating throughout their small room. Neeley had trained himself to sleep through the noise, but listening to it while he was awake was another story. They weren't supposed to leave their rooms after lights out except to go to the bathroom, but that was before. After a few more minutes of racket from Schrader's side of the room, Neeley got up and quietly made his way to the door and out into the darkened hallway. He headed to the kitchen, where he was surprised to find a light on.

''Hello?'' he called tentatively.

''Hey Neeley,'' came a friendly voice. Thomas was sitting at the kitchen table, his care package from home open before him.

''Hey,'' Neeley replied, making his way into the kitchen and taking a seat, ''Whatcha got there?''

''Little midnight snack,'' Thomas said contentedly, nibbling on a S'mores Pop-Tart, ''Want some cocoa?''

''I'd love some,'' replied Neeley, grabbing a mug from the counter and passing it to Thomas, who carefully emptied a pouch from his package into it and topped it up with water from the kettle.

''Pop-Tart?'' he asked, proffering the box in Neeley's direction.

''Nah,'' said Neeley, ''Those are for you.''

''I don't mind,'' said Thomas with sincerity. ''Really.''

Neeley shook his head, and Thomas shrugged his shoulders and put the box back into the care package. Neeley looked curiously at his friend as he took a sip of his cocoa.

''What is it with you and Pop-Tarts anyway?'' he asked.

Thomas smiled sadly. ''We used to eat 'em as kids. Me and Hannah.''

''Oh,'' said Neeley quickly, ''Sorry, I didn't - ''

''It's fine. Really. We'd buy them with our allowance and hide in the backyard and stuff our faces. We tried every single flavour, even the weird ones,'' continued Thomas fondly. ''She liked S'mores the best though. After she died, I found a case of them under my bed with a note saying goodbye. 'Life is short, eat as many Pop-Tarts as you can'. ''

Thomas sighed. ''She was sick for a long time. We knew she wasn't going to make it, I just didn't think she would leave so soon. My parents blamed me for not being there, and I blamed myself even more. The thing is, I knew Hannah would never blame me. She knew how much I loved her. There was so much hurt and so much pain, but we did what we thought was best and pushed it all away. We never talked about it, and never let ourselves really grieve.''

Thomas looked up from his mug with a gleam in his eyes. Neeley felt a twinge in his chest and felt lucky to have never experienced such a devastating loss.

''My parents have left the church.'' Thomas continued, gesturing to the letter tucked into the care package. ''When they heard what happened, that we'd been kicked out in disgrace, they were disappointed in me all over again. Until I told them how much we were helping people here, and how much letting myself truly feel my grief for Hannah gave me new life. They realized that ignoring their pain wasn't the answer or the way to honor her, and I guess they'd already lost their daughter, they didn't want to be pressured into losing their son too. So they left.''

There were footsteps in the hallway, and Connor McKinley appeared, sporting a wicked case of bedhead.

''Hey fellas,'' he said sleepily, ''What are you up to?''

''Just talking about Pop-Tarts,'' replied Neeley, taking another sip of his cocoa.

''Pop-Tarts?'' asked McKinley, gesturing towards the snacks, then nodding towards Thomas, ''Or Poptarts?''

''Both I guess,'' said Neeley, and they all chuckled.

''Did you have a Hell dream?'' Thomas asked with concern.

''No, not a Hell dream,'' said McKinley, ''I haven't had one of those in a long while. Just restless - stressed about all the paperwork I guess. Official mission or not, there are still numbers to crunch and they are definitely not my forté.''

''Why are you worrying yourself with that?'' asked Thomas, ''You're not even the District Leader anymore, considering – you know, there is no district.''

''I know,'' replied McKinley, ''But someone has to do it.''

''I can help,'' offered Neeley, ''I was always good at math.''

''Thanks Neeley, that's very generous.'' McKinley said appreciatively, before turning back to Thomas. ''I woke up and my roomie wasn't there, so I came to check on you.''

''Well, roomie's having cocoa and conversation with young Neeley here. It's like our very own slumber party. Next we'll be painting our nails and braiding each others' hair. Care to join?''

''I would love to,'' McKinley smiled, taking a seat on Neeley's side of the table. Thomas chose a floral mug for him, mixed his drink and slid it across to his roommate. ''Now,'' said McKinley, looking expectantly around the table, ''Who has gossip?''


	5. Cunningham

Neeley kept his word. Late one rainy afternoon, he and McKinley were holed up in the office going over the books.

''To be honest, these are kind of a mess,'' said Neeley, as politely as possible.

McKinley sighed dramatically. ''I know that,'' he said, ''It's just the financials are a disaster right now, with the church pulling their support and everything. I'm just trying to figure out how this is going to work.''

''Well, it looks like most of our parents have sent some funds to the new bank account you set up. I guess as much as we've disgraced ourselves they still want to make sure we're fed and clothed.''

''Yes, I saw that; it's definitely going to help.''

''Wait.'' Neeley paused, his highlighter hovering over a line on the latest bank statement. ''Holy moly.''

''What?'' asked McKinley, coming around the desk and peering over Neeley's shoulder. ''What is it?''

''Where did this come from?'' Neeley pointed to the line in question.

McKinley gasped, ''Shut the front door! Five thousand dollars?? From whom?''

''It doesn't say,'' says Neeley thoughtfully, scouring the printout, ''Wait a second. Here.'' He pointed to some small print.

''Bohhuah Mutdah,'' read McKinley carefully, ''Who the heck is that?''

''Hey! Are you guys talking about Star Wars without me?'' sang a voice from the hallway. Arnold Cunningham stuck his head into the office.

''You know that name?'' asked McKinley, confused.

''Of course, he's the richest – oh,'' he stuttered as he noticed the bank statements, realizing he'd given himself away.

''The money's from you?'' blurted McKinley, ''Where on Heavenly Father's green Earth did you get five thousand dollars??''

Arnold flung himself down onto the lumpy sofa. ''I sold a bunch of my collectibles,'' he said matter-of-factly. ''Well, my mom did it for me.''

''You had five _thousand_ dollars worth of collectibles??'' asked Neeley, bewildered.

''No,'' laughed Arnold, ''No, no no. I had about seven thousand dollars worth. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings - ''

''Yes, yes,'' said McKinley impatiently, ''but Elder Cunningham, you didn't need to sell your precious things!'' Neeley nodded in agreement.

''Yes, I did,'' said Arnold with conviction, ''I wanted to. You guys are my best friends. And Kitguli needs a church.''

''Oh my goodness, the church! That's more than enough to finish it, _and_ still keep the mission going.'' McKinley beamed. ''Thank you, Arnold. Truly.''

''Hey, no problem!'' Arnold leapt to his feet. ''Well, I gotta go,'' he said breezily, ''I'm giving a lesson on the Ewoks' epic journey to Salt Lake City. It's gonna be awesome!'' And with that, Cunningham whirled out the door and disappeared.

Neeley and McKinley just stared at each other in disbelief.

''Well,'' said McKinley, as he sat back down at the desk, ''That was entirely unexpected.''

''I never thought that Cunningham would have such a big heart,'' Neeley confessed, ''I mean, he seemed so...''

''Ridiculous?'' McKinley offered, and Neeley nodded with a smile. ''Well, I'm sure we all seemed ridiculous in our own way, I mean what must he have thought of me when he arrived? Dancing around in a pink vest singing about boys. Must have been a bit disconcerting.''

''I don't think you're ridiculous,'' admitted Neeley after a thoughtful pause, ''In fact, I admire your courage. The church isn't an easy place to be...dealing with those sorts of feelings.''

McKinley peered curiously across the desk, and Neeley felt him staring into his soul. ''Well, mystery solved, I have to go,'' said Neeley quickly, jumping to his feet, ''It's my turn to make dinner.''

And before McKinley could even respond, Neeley was gone.


	6. Schrader

''Thanks so much again for all your help,'' said McKinley as he and Neeley left the office and headed for their respective rooms.

''It's no problem, really,'' Neeley assured him.

They stood silently for a moment, and it seemed to Neeley like McKinley had something more to say. Just as he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, Neeley beat him to it.

''Well, I better get in there,'' he said, in what he hoped was a casual tone, ''I told Schrader I'd kick the ball around with him, and I'm sure Price is waiting for you.''

''Why would he - ''

''See you!'' blurted Neeley as he hastily scrambled through the door.

''There you are,'' greeted his roommate, who was already dressed in a pair of shorts he'd picked up at the market.

''Sorry. I was just helping McKinley with some accounting stuff.''

''Again?'' replied Schrader, ''That's the third time this week''

''Well, there's a lot to do.''

''And how _is_ Connor?''

Neeley looked at him strangely. ''Fine,'' he said flatly, ''he's fine.''

''He seems to be doing well,'' continued Schrader casually, ''He's happier...lighter somehow. Must not have been easy for him, trying to keep it all inside.''

Neeley studied his roommate, trying to decipher what he was getting at.

''My brother's – Well, he faced the same issues.''

Neeley raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Schrader continued, ''He tried to keep it hidden from us, and he was miserable. I could tell something was up with him but I didn't know what it was. After a while, he didn't want to hide it anymore. He started seeing someone – David. My parents were beside themselves, and the church – they kicked him out. So did my folks. That was five years ago, and I haven't seen him since''

''I'm sorry to hear that. Where's your brother now?''

''Tuscon, I think. He sent me his address a few months after he left. I never wrote back, but I kept it. He was still my brother.''

''Why are you telling me this?'' asked Neeley quietly.

''Because you're my friend, and I just - thought you should know.'' He looked at Neeley expectantly.

Neeley nodded, almost imperceptibly, then looked out the window to where some of the other missionaries were gathered outside. This wasn't a conversation Neeley had expected to be having with his roommate; he was a great friend and companion but had always been one of the biggest sticklers for the mission rules and always the first to remind everyone to keep their switch flipped. If Schrader could embrace this new mindset, maybe there was hope for Neeley after all.

''Maybe...maybe you should write to your brother. I'm sure he would want to hear from you, and would be glad to hear your views have changed.'' He turned back to his roommate, who grabbed his shoes from under the bed and started lacing them up.

''You know what?'' said Schrader, ''I think I will. Thanks for the talk, Neels.'' Schrader shot him a friendly smile. ''Now are we playing soccer or what?''

''I'll just change and meet you out there,'' said Neeley.

''Sure thing, see you in a minute.''

The door closed and Neeley slowly sank down onto his bed, letting out a deep breath. He would figure this out, he _would_. But now – now it was time for soccer. He threw on his shorts and sneakers and headed out to join his friend.


	7. Price

''Okay,'' declared Price, ''this is how it works -''

He proceeded to describe in excruciating detail every item laid out before him. Price had organized a kind of team-building exercise using a makeshift obstacle course created from random items he'd found lying around the mission. Cunningham was off with Nabulungi, which left them with an odd number of players, so Neeley volunteered to sit it out so the others could compete in pairs. They'd all tried to convince him to join, but Neeley didn't feel much like taking part anyway. Instead he'd found a comfortable shady spot on the porch and settled down with his pad and pencils to continue with the sketch he'd been working on. He tried to tune out the ruckus from the yard and the sound of Price's bossy shouting and focus on his drawing. It wasn't easy.

Neeley still didn't know what to make of Kevin Price. When Price had arrived in Uganda, Neeley found him to be moody, disruptive, and self-important. Several months and a complete change in circumstances later, he found him to be moody, disruptive, and self-important. There were certainly things about Price that Neeley admired. He had guts. He'd seen the error of his ways and stood up for his companion and for the people of Kitguli. He'd led them along a path of destruction and out the other side, and had worked hard to create a better life for all of them.

Still, he just couldn't warm up to him. Not that Price hadn't tried. He'd struck up conversations from the mundane to the ridiculous – if Neeley had to hear one more word about Orlando, he would scream. It was all just a bit much, and the more Price tried to bond with him, the more irritable Neeley got about the whole thing. Sure Price had gained some humility and humbled himself to being Cunningham's sidekick, but he was still the golden boy. He seemed to have no problem whatsoever letting go of the church, and no internal struggle. He strutted around the mission swigging his precious coffee without a care in the world.

After about an hour, Neeley suddenly realized that the noise level had dropped considerably, and looking up from his sketch pad, he found that the games had come to an end. The guys were dispersing, Schrader and Zee high-fiving in celebration of their apparent victory. As the rest of the group headed inside, Price and McKinley had broken away and stood nearby, where Price was telling one of his elaborate stories. He gestured wildly, his brilliant grin flashing as McKinley burst out laughing. Yes, things had worked out well for Kevin Price. Neeley 2.0 had gotten things his way.

Maybe he was being unfair. Maybe he should put everything back in the box and turn the key, keep on going the same way he had for the first 19 years of his life. Buddy up to Price and watch it all unfold before him without a care in the world. Maybe -

''Hey Neeley, McKinley and I are going to take a walk to the market,'' Price called, '' You want to join us?''

Neeley froze, a feeling of dread creeping through him. He didn't want to turn it off, he didn't want to pretend like everything was fine, and that meant he didn't want to spend time with Price and McKinley.

He shook his head and pretended to focus on his drawing.

''Come on,'' Price persisted, moving closer with a friendly grin, ''You've been moping around all day. It'll be good for you!''

''I just don't want to, okay? Can you just leave me alone for once??'' Neeley dropped his pad and pencil and walked away as fast as his legs could carry him, away from the mission, and away from McKinley and Price. One of the many things Kevin Price had learned in Uganda was when to let things be. He watched McKinley follow after Neeley and hoped for the best.


	8. McKinley

''Neeley, slow down! Are you alright?''

Neeley didn't reply, and kept walking as fast as possible, trying to escape the situation. Eventually he reached the edge of a steep embankment and there was nowhere else to go. McKinley caught up to him, breathing hard.

''What is going on with you?'' he asked.

Neeley steeled himself and turned to face his concerned friend.

''I'm fine, Elder! Completely fine.''

''Elder? What -''

''I'm just working some things out, that's all. It's not really a normal situation we're in. It takes time, you know?''

''Of course I know that, Neeley. Have you met me?''

Neeley looked at him, bemused despite himself. McKinley moved closer and searched Neeley's face with concern.

''Look, you've been an amazing friend to everyone here,'' he said, ''Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been engaging with everyone and helping them as much as you can. Don't you think it's time that you let someone listen to _you_ and help _you_?''

Neeley studied him intently for several silent seconds, and McKinley wasn't sure if he was calming down or just silently getting angrier. Finally, Neeley let out a sigh and sat down at the edge of the rock face, legs dangling over the side. Hesitantly, McKinley joined him. He wasn't a big fan of heights, even small ones like this, though he had to admit it was a stunning view. He sat in silence, knowing that Neeley would talk when he was ready. Finally, he did.

''When I was 12,'' Neeley began, looking out over the landscape, ''my mother sat me down and asked me if I liked boys. I don't know how she knew, I barely did. My heart stopped right then and there. But I plastered on a big Mormon smile and said, 'Of course not, Mother'. She believed it and that was that. That night, I had the Hell dream. And when I woke up, I realized the lie was almost worse than the truth. And I decided that if I took all those feelings and locked them away then it wouldn't be a lie. So that's what I did – for 7 years. And I never had a Hell dream again, so I thought I must be doing what's right.''

Neeley allowed himself to glance over at McKinley, who was listening intently.

''I saw ahead of me a life of mediocrity,'' Neeley continued, ''just living to please my parents, and to please the Church. And then I met you...'' He compelled himself to look McKinley in the eye as he spoke. ''I saw how you struggled, and I didn't know what was worse – that you were letting that side of you out, or that you felt like you had to keep it in. This incredibly unique part of you – this over-the-top, outlandish, and yes maybe-sometimes-a-little-ridiculous-yet-somehow-completely-endearing side of you that's so unlike me, but so free in a way I thought I could never be but so badly _wanted_ to be.

I never thought it would be possible, but then Cunningham and Price came, and everything changed. I used to think that getting kicked out of the Church was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, but I think maybe it was the best. I see all the others opening themselves up and moving forward as their authentic selves, and it's something I'd never imagined for myself.

The more I've gotten to know you, the more I've discovered there's so much more to you than I ever realized. And I thought that maybe - just maybe - it was possible, to feel that way after all.''

The hopeful smile that had appeared on his face faded as he plowed ahead, ''But I get it - I do! And I just want you to be with happy, even if it is with someone else.''

McKinley followed Neeley's gaze back to to the mission yard, where he could just make out Price clearing away his obstacle course. He turned back and just stared.

''Wait, that's why you keep running away from me? You think – me and Price?'' He let out a jarring laugh, which stopped abruptly when he saw the uncomfortably confused looked on Neeley's face.

''We're friends! We're not – Price isn't even - ''

''...Oh,'' said Neeley, followed by an awkward pause while he mulled it over. ''So you two aren't _because_ he's not?''

''No, that's not _why_. It's just – he's just not - '

''Not _what_ , exactly?''

''He's not _you_.''

Neeley's eyes widened in genuine surprise. ''Me?''

''Yes you, you idiot!'' McKinley teased, swatting Neeley's arm. ''Why not you?''

''I don't know, you seemed so taken with Price. I mean, he has this huge personality that everyone is just so drawn to and I'm...well - boring.''

''Maybe I was a little taken with him at first,'' admitted McKinley, ''I mean he is kind of dreamy.''

Neeley's eyebrows shot up, and McKinley rushed on, ''But you say big personality, I say drama queen,'' he shrugged, ''I'm enough of one myself. And you're not boring. You're – you're Neeley.''

Neeley studied McKinley skeptically. ''What does that mean?''

''You're kind,'' McKinley told him with affection, ''You have a big heart. You care about people and they love you for it! You sell yourself short, Porter.''

Neeley looked stunned.

''You've never called me that before.''

''No, I guess I haven't. But things are different now, aren't they?''

Things did feel different, and it was like a weight had lifted from Neeley's shoulders. But as happy as he was, he still had no idea what it all meant.

''Are they though?'' he questioned, ''I mean, what happens now?''

''Well, I don't know,'' confessed McKinley, ''I've never done this before.''

''That makes two of us. What about the others?''

''Well, The Book of Arnold does says that people are free to love who they choose. I think that's a start. They'll figure it out eventually, and so will we.''

''I'm pretty sure Schrader already knows,'' said Neeley.

''And?'' McKinley prompted.

''And he was actually very supportive.''

''Well, that's great!''

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before McKinley spoke again, ''It's nice, isn't it?'' he asked wistfully.

''What?''

''Feeling again.''

Neeley allowed himself to do something he never thought he would: he slipped his hand into that of the boy he liked. Together they watched the sun sink lower on the horizon as the sky lit up in bright colours over the sweeping landscape. It was the most content Neeley had felt in long time.


	9. Neeley

Two weeks later, Schrader burst into his and Neeley's room, excitedly waving a piece of paper.

''Hey Neeley, wake up!''

''What?'' Neeley asked groggily, rolling over. Afternoon naps were one of the best perks of his conversion to the Church of Arnold, ''What is it?''

''It's Daniel – my brother. He wrote back!''

Fully awake now, Neeley couldn't help but smile at how incredibly happy his roommate looked.

''I want you to read it,'' Schrader said, shoving the letter into Neeley's hands.

''Are you sure?''

''Just take it!''

Neeley took the letter and began reading the tidy script.

_Dear Spencer,_

_You have no idea how much it meant to me to get your letter and your kind words. Please know that I don't hold anything against you, and love and miss you like crazy. I'm sorry you left the church in the way that you did but if it makes you as happy as it's made me, then it's for the best. It seems like a wild adventure you're on, but I'm so glad you have such good friends serving with you. Please thank your friend Porter for helping us to re-connect, and I hope that my story will help him on his path. I also hope you will keep in touch. David and I would love to see you when you get back to the States, if you feel ready for that._

_Your brother,_

_Dan_

''That's great, Spence. Really great.''

''All thanks to you, pal.''

''No, thank _you_. It meant a lot to me that you were so understanding. But how did you - ''

''How did I know? What, because you don't have a pink suitcase and a shimmy in your step you think it changes who you are inside?''

Neeley shot his roommate a sour look, but Schrader just smiled amicably.

''Look, I don't know how I knew, I guess you just had the same vibe my brother had when he was trying so hard to deny the way he felt. Plus, I once saw you look at McKinley the way Cunningham looks at Nabulungi,'' he demonstrated, making heart eyes at Neeley.

''Shut up,'' Neeley mumbled.

''I'm just kidding, buddy. I'm happy for you. For real.''

''You think the others know?''

Schrader shrugged, ''Don't know. Maybe. No one's mentioned it to me though.''

Neeley sighed, conflicted.

''Look,'' said Schrader, clapping his roommate on the shoulder, ''Tomorrow is a latter day, and all that. Things have changed! We all just want you to be happy.''

Neeley smiled, grateful once again to have such great friends around him.

''I'm starving!'' Schrader declared, ''Let's go grab a bite.''

Neeley and Schrader headed to the kitchen, where the others seemed to have all had the same afternoon munchies. Church and Poptarts were building epic sandwiches while Zee snacked on some Cheetos he'd managed to track down, washing them down with a Coke. Price was brewing himself an extra large coffee, and McKinley was pulling a loaf of banana bread out of the oven.

''Just in time!'' McKinley called as they walked in, ''Want some?''

Neeley and Schrader pulled up seats at the table while McKinley sliced the still-warm loaf.

''Smells great! I'll take a slice,'' said Price. He gestured to the empty seat next to Neeley, ''Can I join you?''

''Sure,'' Neeley replied, pushing out the chair for him, ''Hey, do you think you'll do some more team-building exercises? That obstacle course looked pretty fun.''

''Oh yeah,'' replied Price enthusiastically, with a mouth full of banana bread, ''I have all kinds of awesome stuff planned.''

''Great! I'm looking forward to it,'' said Neeley, looking up to see McKinley smiling proudly at his efforts to bond with Price.

''Hey Neeley, you left your sketch pad out on the porch again,'' said Church, picking it up from the counter and handing it across the table, ''What are you working on, anyway?''

Neeley had never shown his friends any of his sketches, but there was one he wanted them to see. He flipped through the drawings of the African landscapes to the last page. Everyone gathered around to take a look.

''Oh wow, that's us!'' shouted Cunningham.

Everyone nodded appreciatively, murmuring among themselves as they studied the drawing of the eight elders of the Church of Arnold.

''That's really great, Neels,'' enthused Poptarts.

''I know exactly what this needs,'' said McKinley, rushing out of the room and returning with a wooden picture frame, ''I think we should hang it up.''

''I know what else it needs,'' proclaimed Arnold, ''A heart. Right here.''

Everyone's gaze followed Cunningham's chubby finger as he pointed to the small space between where Neeley and McKinley stood side-by-side in the drawing. Then they all looked to Neeley himself. A hush fell over the kitchen. Neeley looked around at the faces of his mission companions, his closest friends. None looked surprised, and none looked perturbed. And incredibly, Neeley wasn't bothered either. He was tired of hiding. He looked to Connor, who gave him an encouraging nod.

''What do you think?'' Neeley asked him with soft smile, ''Pink?''

''Obviously.''

McKinley pulled a pink gel pen out of his pocket (because of course he did), and slid it across to Neeley, who added a small sparkly heart between them.

''There. Perfect.''

They slid the drawing into the frame, and clapped as Price hung it on the wall over the kitchen table. Conversation continued and life went on. Neeley's world hadn't come crashing down when his truth was revealed, in fact he felt like himself for the first time in his life.

As the others ate and joked around as usual, Connor tilted his head towards the door. Neeley followed him outside, and they sat and talked for a long while. About home, about life in Africa, about their friends.

Porter Neeley never expected his first real kiss to be on the back porch of a mission hut in Africa, and he definitely didn't expect it to be with a boy. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you made it this far, it means you gave Neeley a chance! So, thank you and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
